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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23955640">Children of the Gods: Part Two.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Actual_Writing_Trashcan/pseuds/Actual_Writing_Trashcan'>Actual_Writing_Trashcan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Colossus Hyperfixation Collection [80]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Deadpool (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Violence, Child Death, Death, Dysfunctional Coping Skills, Family Fluff, Fist Fights, Gun Violence, Multi, Piotr's stepping up to the plate, Shooting, The long awaited part Two, This is a heavy one, Violence, chucking this one under mature and violence tags bc there's death in this, still has some fluffy points though</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:14:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,385</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23955640</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Actual_Writing_Trashcan/pseuds/Actual_Writing_Trashcan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Allison Ricci surfaces again, you and the adult members of the X-Force jump on the opportunity to track her down and capture her, once and for all. However, it becomes apparent that the thirteen year-old has gained a mysterious mentor --one that's been helping her amass dangerous weapons and stalk Karen Page. Will you and your team be able to stop Allison before it's too late?</p>
<p>(Set after "Children of the Gods: Part One.")</p>
<p>[All warnings in the tags.]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Frank Castle/Karen Page, Nathan Summers/Wade Wilson, Piotr Rasputin/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Colossus Hyperfixation Collection [80]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1079544</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Children of the Gods: Part Two.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You adjust your hood, shield yourself from the early –but somehow still bitter—New York autumn winds before stepping out of the car. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I know that you don’t… like stuff like this.”</p>
<p>Your husband, Piotr –who’s currently seated in the driver’s seat—shakes his head. “I made commitment to protect and support you. That means not leaving you to handle difficult aspects of job alone just because they make me uncomfortable.” He reaches over and gently squeezes your hand, then opens his car door and hops out. “Hang on. I will get door.”</p>
<p>You tug on your hood again, trying to make sure it covers your face.</p>
<p>You’re on a covert mission with Neena, Nathan, Wade, and your husband to check out an underground fighting ring known for letting mutants fight in it. There’s a chance of being seen by various criminals the X-Men have been looking for –or, worse, recognized, hence the hood—but, more importantly, there’s a chance of finding Allison Ricci.</p>
<p>Reports of the vengeance seeking teen have been scarce in the past few months. Wherever she disappeared to after the showdown at Spring Heights Memorial Park, she made sure to stay out of sight.</p>
<p>That was, until a week ago, when reports of a mutant fighter with a power set similar to Allison’s surfaced in the fighting rings.</p>
<p>Piotr opens your door, ushering you out into the lot behind one of Wade and Nate’s safehouses (they’d deemed it safer for you two to park there and ride with them, rather than possibly having the car connected with the X-Men). “Things will be fine, <em>myshka</em>. <em>I</em> will be fine. <em>Konechno</em>?”</p>
<p>“Okay.” You lean against him for a moment, letting your head rest against his chest. “I love you.”</p>
<p>“<em>Ya lyublyu tebya</em>,” Piotr murmurs. He kisses the top of your head, then pats your back gently. “Alright, <em>moya serdste</em>. Let’s go.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>There isn’t much of a plan. The sole goal is to slip into the “base of operations” –which is just a defunct, concrete building that used to be a factory for producing car parts—without being noticed, and keep an eye out for Allison.</p>
<p>Because for reasons you don’t understand, your dad’s put an official kibosh on tailing Allison back to wherever she’s been hiding out. It seems counterintuitive to you –but then, you’re not the master strategist.</p>
<p>Piotr keeps a protective arm around you as you make your way into the throngs of various criminal and mob scum. Even though you’re not posing as a married couple, there isn’t much that can turn off his protective instincts.</p>
<p>(Nate, Wade, and Neena are already inside, scoping out different areas. The goal is to <em>not</em> look conspicuous, meaning you can’t all gaggle together like a bunch of ducklings.)</p>
<p>You screw your mouth to the side –and ignore a handful of dudes making some crass remarks about you, which gets them some angry Russian grumbling from your husband—and stare at the board with the various rings and betting buy-ins listed across it. “Got any ideas for which one to pick?”</p>
<p>(Granted, Neena’s probably already picked the right one, but the idea is to cover enough area that at least one of you is likely to spot Allison.)</p>
<p>Before Piotr can say anything, a woman at your right speaks up. “Rumor has it ring five’s going to be good.”</p>
<p>Out of the corner of your eye, you see Christina sidle up next to you. You know from your uncle that she’s been working a case at the fighting clubs, so it’s not necessarily surprising to see her here.</p>
<p>And, hell, if she knows where Allison might be, it’s worth following her suggestion.</p>
<p>You don’t visibly acknowledge her, but you do say, “Ring five?”</p>
<p>“Thousand dollar buy in to watch –but, if you’re good for it, you’re likely to find what you’re looking for.”</p>
<p>And, given Allison’s… unique fighting style, it makes sense that whoever’s running this shitshow would put her match behind a fat paywall.</p>
<p>Plus, as fortune would have it, you’d thought to bring some cash with you in case a scenario like this arose.</p>
<p>You step up to the counter where people are buying passes to watch matches and placing bets –with Piotr close in tow, like your protective, super-sized shadow—and shell out two thousand dollars from an envelope you’ve kept tucked in your pocket until now.</p>
<p>The money-handler behind the window hands you and Piotr each a pass, then points to the right, towards a stairwell guarded by a large man wearing a black blazer and black sunglasses. “Match starts in twenty minutes. Best to get seats now.”</p>
<p>Piotr’s hand lands on your shoulder as the two of you step away from the counter. “Stay close, <em>myshka</em>.”</p>
<p>“Believe me,” you murmur, “I’m not going anywhere.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The room in question is what looks an old storage room that’s had gymnasium-style bleachers shoved against the wall and a “ring” that’s just a stained concrete floor cordoned off with what Nate had described as “electro-magnetic force shields too expensive for their own good.”</p>
<p>The people in the room are markedly better dressed, but no less dangerous looking. The crisp blazers, shiny leather shoes, and dark sunglasses all indicate a clear desire for anonymity –no doubt mobsters and corrupt officials looking to make bank on a fight.</p>
<p>If anything, you and Piotr look out of place in your hoodies and jeans.</p>
<p>Piotr grits his teeth and hisses under his teeth when a few of the well-polished patrons swivel their heads to look at the two of you. His grip on your shoulder tightens, and he tugs you all the closer against his body. “Stay close.”</p>
<p>“I will, baby,” you promise quietly as he leads you past the ring and up into the bleachers. “I will.”</p>
<p>The two of you choose seats relatively out of the way, tucked into one of the dark corners of the room. Piotr can still easily see the ring, and you can hide behind his bulk to text the others without being noticed.</p>
<p>
  <em>You: At ring five. $$$ crowd here. Cover might be blown bc clothes.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Dad: Do what you have to.</strong>
</p>
<p>You pocket your phone, then nestle yourself against Piotr’s side. “Fifteen minutes until the match starts.”</p>
<p>“Hopefully we will make it that long,” he mutters, still keeping an eye on the cash-loaded crowd with hawk-like scrutiny.</p>
<p>You grab his hand, sliding your fingers between his and squeezing reassuringly. “We’ll be fine. Just keep a small profile.”</p>
<p>Your husband chuckles when you grin at your own pun, then kisses the top of your head. “Very funny, <em>myshka</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The two of you manage to avoid being picked out as interlopers until the match starts.</p>
<p>The fight is between a lumbering, hulking that can morph his body into whatever material he touches and a significantly shorter, slimmer, black-clad, masked opponent with the ability to shoot bolts of blue energy from their hands.</p>
<p>“They’re short enough –and the power set’s close.”</p>
<p>“I am not certain,” Piotr mutters as he watches the two fighters clash. “Their control is too good. Allison was sloppier.”</p>
<p>“Well, let’s keep watching. She was already pretty strong; she could’ve been practicing.” You crane your neck to the side as the masked fighter hits their opponent in the chest with a blast of energy –then do a doubletake when you notice someone sitting on the side of the ring where the masked fighter entered.</p>
<p>The person’s wearing a baggy, black hoodie that obscures most of their body and face –but it’s still easy to tell that they’re shouting pointers at the masked fighter throughout the match.</p>
<p>“Piotr!” You elbow your husband in the ribs, then surreptitiously point down at the masked fighter’s coach. “Look! That’s how she got better. She found a trainer!”</p>
<p>Piotr eyes the coach, then quirks his mouth to the side. “We still do not know—”</p>
<p>And then the masked fighter sinks into the ground to avoid a truck tire thrown by their opposition.</p>
<p>“You were saying?”</p>
<p>A small smile tugs at your husband’s lips. He tucks an arm around your shoulders, but still keeps his focus on the ring. “So, we found her. Now what?”</p>
<p>“I’ll text Dad. He’ll have a plan.”</p>
<p>Halfway through forming your text, Piotr –and a sizable chunk of the audience, too—gasps. “<em>Bozhe ty moi</em>.”</p>
<p>You look up in time to see a cloud of ash dispersing over the ring’s floor. “What? What happened?”</p>
<p>The larger man in the ring grits his teeth, then lets out a bellow as he picks up another truck tire and chucks at Allison—</p>
<p>Who merely holds up her hand, which faintly glows blue around the edges.</p>
<p>The tire collapses in on itself, turning into a cloud of ash.</p>
<p>You gape. “What the <em>fuck</em>?”</p>
<p>“Could she do that last time?” Piotr asks.</p>
<p>“Not that I remember.” You finish your first text to your dad, then tack on another one.</p>
<p>
  <em>You: She can turn things into ash.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>You: She literally just turned a tire into ash by holding her hand towards it.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>You: Piotr and I both saw it happen.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Nate: Shit.</strong>
</p>
<p>You keep your eyes glued on the screen, waiting for your dad’s advice on what to do –then jump when a gasp ripples through the crowd and Piotr’s hand tightens on your shoulder. “What? What happened?”</p>
<p>In the center of the ring, the hulking male opponent drops to his knees, then collapses face first onto the ring. A fist-sized, slightly smoking hole has been bored through his chest.</p>
<p>And, a few feet away from him, Allison lowers her still glowing hand.</p>
<p>You suck in a breath, then text your dad again.</p>
<p>
  <em>You: She just killed her opponent.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Nate: Get out of there. Do NOT engage.</strong>
</p>
<p>Piotr reads the message over your shoulder, then stands and quickly ushers you towards the door before you can do anything impulsive. “Let’s go, <em>dorogoy</em>.”</p>
<p>“Wasn’t like there was anywhere else I wanted to be,” you mutter.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“Remind me, again, why we didn’t follow them? Allison and her trainer left right away! It would’ve been easy to tail them.”</p>
<p>“Because the last thing we needed was the two of you breaking your cover to chase Allison down,” Nathan says as he steers the SUV along a pothole riddled street. “If we’re going to engage with her, we need to do it somewhere we have more control over the environment.”</p>
<p>“But—” You grit your teeth when the car rolls over a pothole, sending a jolt straight up your spine. “What about figuring out where she’s been hiding? If we could’ve found their vehicle, gotten a snapshot of the license plate—”</p>
<p>“We already have a lead for that. Tonight was about making sure she was still in town, that the lead was still fresh enough.”</p>
<p>You grip your armrest, then peer up at an old, crumbly brick façade of an apartment building. “I take it we’re not here for shits and giggles, then?”</p>
<p>“Depends on who you ask.”</p>
<p>He parks at the same time Dopinder’s cab does, cutting the engine and hopping out to corral Wade before the latter can get up to anything too crazy.</p>
<p>Piotr unfolds himself from the front passenger seat, then opens your door for you and ushers you out onto the cracked sidewalk. He places one arm around your shoulders, warily eyeing a group of twenty-something guys that seem to be arguing at the end of the block. “Keep sharp, <em>lyublyu</em>. Could be dangerous.”</p>
<p>“Not everyone’s a threat, baby.”</p>
<p>“Not everyone,” he agrees, grip tightening when one of the guys shoves another. “But not all are wise, too.”</p>
<p>“Chop, chop, <em>compadres</em>,” Wade hollers, feigning obliviousness to his environment (which you know better than to believe, given his status as a deadly mercenary). He grins maniacally, hefting grocery and takeout bags. “We’ve got a delivery to make.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The lot of you head up to the fourth floor of the building. The inside isn’t much better than the outside, with yellowing walls, peeling paint, buzzing lights, and faded, patching carpets.</p>
<p>It’s clean, though. Warm enough. Many of the doors boast colorful welcome signs, pictures drawn by resident children, silk flower wreaths, and signs “warning” of friendly pets.</p>
<p>Wade beats everyone else to one of the doors towards the end of the hall. He starts knocking excitedly, rapping his knuckles against the door until it swings open. “Hi, we’re part of a DoorDash alternative company—”</p>
<p>Nathan catches the door before it can slam shut in his partner’s face. He plants his metal hand against the wooden surface, bracing it open. “We need to speak with Miguel Herrera.”</p>
<p>The resident of the apartment –a hulking, doe-eyed, tan skinned guy who barely looks a day older than nineteen—glances at the rest of you before shaking his head. “He ain’t here. Have a nice day.” He tries to shove the door shut –hard enough that he makes Nathan’s boots slide across the threadbare carpet—</p>
<p>And then a hand catches it from the inside. “It’s alright.” The door swings open, revealing Christina, clad in the same clothes she was wearing at the fighting rings. “I know them. They’re…” She stops for a moment as she makes eye contact with Wade, and the burning rage between them is all too evident. “They’re decent people,” she finishes, quickly glancing away. “It’s okay to let them in.”</p>
<p>The kid shoots a wary look at all of you, gaze lingering on Nathan, Wade, and Piotr the longest, then edges the door open. “Alright. Come on in.”</p>
<p>You all file into an already cramped, relatively small apartment. There’s a gaggle of much younger kids squished onto a worn plaid couch stationed in front of a TV –the oldest one doesn’t look like she’s hit middle school yet—that all peer at you with the same mistrustfulness that the eldest boy did at the door.</p>
<p>The guy that answered the door crosses his arms over his chest, then nods at the bag. “What’s that?”</p>
<p>“Groceries and dinner!” Wade answers cheerfully. “Courtesy of Walmart and Five Guys!”</p>
<p>Those seem to be the magic words for the younger children. They rocket off the couch, swarming Wade as they try to see what’s in the bags.</p>
<p>“Hey, hey, hey!” The guy –who you’re figuring is the kids’ older brother, there’s no way he’s their dad—speaks to the cluster of children in Spanish, then waves them away from Wade. “Manners. Go wash your hands; Maria, help Aaron, <em>por favor</em>.”</p>
<p>The eldest girl –who looks to be about ten, tops—nods, then shoos her siblings towards a miniscule bathroom.</p>
<p>“I’m Miguel,” the guy finally introduces himself. He steps over to the kitchen –which is little more than a counter that has a cook top on it, a sink, a fridge, a microwave, and some cabinets. He starts pulling out plates, silverware, and cups. “Look, I appreciate the gesture—” he jerks his chin at the bags in Wade’s hand “—but we don’t need handouts. I can take care of my siblings just fine.”</p>
<p>“I asked them to bring a few things,” Christina speaks up. “I figured if they were going to bug you, you could at least get something out of it.”</p>
<p>Miguel grimaces, but doesn’t argue. “Well, thank you.” He sets the dishware on the counter, then pulls a well-loved wooden table out of a corner before going about setting it. “Just set the bags in the kitchen. I’ll deal with them later. Why the—” he glances over at the bathroom, then quickly lowers his voice “—fuck are you here?”</p>
<p>“We’ve got a few questions about the rings you’ve been fighting in,” Nathan speaks up, voice even.</p>
<p>Miguel’s shoulders tense, gaze darting over at Nate. “Look, if you’re here to start shit—”</p>
<p>“Not here to start anything,” Nathan reassures him. “Just to ask questions. And, if we did start something, I’m pretty sure your mentor—” he nods at Christina “—would throw us out the nearest exit.”</p>
<p>“Damn straight,” Christina mutters as she helps Miguel divvy up the orders from Five Guy’s.</p>
<p>“We want to ask you about one of the opponents you fought—"</p>
<p>Miguel shushes your dad before glancing back at the bathroom, then shakes his head. “Not while <em>mis hermanas y hermanos</em> are awake. Later.”</p>
<p>Nathan nods as the younger kids start filing out of the bathroom, then steps towards the kitchen. “I can pour drinks. Who wants what?”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Miguel, as it turns out, isn’t the only mutant in the Herrera family.</p>
<p>You grin as Aaron –the youngest at five—makes several bits of light float around the room in the shape of butterflies. “That’s so cool!”</p>
<p>Miguel smiles fondly and ruffles his brother’s dark, curly hair. “<em>Ese es mi pequeño sol</em>. He started doing that a few months ago.”</p>
<p>“<em>Ochen' khorosho</em>,” Piotr agrees with an equally endeared smile. “Why not bring him to Institute? We can help him hone powers, learn more about them.”</p>
<p>Miguel grimaces, shifting in his seat. “All due respect, <em>Señor</em> Rasputin, but that isn’t as easy an option as you make it seem. And it doesn’t begin to cover the needs my family has.”</p>
<p>“We have financial aid options for those who need it,” Piotr reassures Miguel.</p>
<p>“My parents looked into that for me, in high school, when my mutation presented,” Miguel fires back. “Even with aid, we still couldn’t afford the tuition, let alone the travel to get to the building or the housing fees. I know you guys don’t get government support, and it complicates things, but Xavier’s just isn’t accessible to lower income families… not to mention everything else.”</p>
<p>Piotr frowns. “What is meaning?”</p>
<p>“You don’t have good resources for kids with learning disabilities, for one, even with your therapy staff,” Miguel says after a moment’s hesitation. “There aren’t enough of them that are qualified in areas like ADHD, dyslexia, autism, that kind of stuff. You also don’t have a lot of people trained to handle more difficult cases –which a lot of low income mutant kids are. I’ve read your school’s disciplinary policies. You’d wash out a majority of your ‘tough cases’ in a few months. You don’t offer scholarships, a diverse array of classes, many extracurriculars, and your meal options don’t cover people with allergies all that well, either. Plus, I don’t want to have to separate my siblings. We’re the only family we have right now, and you guys don’t allow non-mutants.” He shifts in his seat, eyes trained on the floor. “I know you’re a small school, and I think what you’re doing for the mutant community is good. I just… it doesn’t help people like us.”</p>
<p>Piotr studies Miguel for a moment, taking him in, then pulls out his phone. “Would you mind if we discuss this more while I take notes? I think you make good points.”</p>
<p>You can’t help but smile to yourself while Miguel and Piotr resume talking about the Institute. <em>That’s my baby</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“I thought one of the bosses had brought their kid to watch the fight when I first saw her. She was so tiny; I didn’t even think I’d be fighting her.”</p>
<p>It’s ten PM. The rest of the Herrera kids are in bed, the dishes have been cleaned and put away, and the groceries are safely stowed in the cabinet and fridge, respectively.</p>
<p>Miguel sits in one of the folding chairs used at the table, arms braced on his thighs and hands clasped loosely. His head droops towards his chest, shoulders sloping low under the weight of his shame. “I almost called off the round, but the bets had already been made. I couldn’t back out.”</p>
<p>“You did what you had to do,” Christina reassures him. She’s sitting in the chair next to him, angled so that she’s set between Miguel and the rest of you. “The organizers wouldn’t have let you back out anyway. It wasn’t your fault.”</p>
<p>“We’re not here to judge your fights,” Nathan adds. He’s standing next to one of the windows that overlook the street, leaning against the wall. “We heard you had information on Allison’s whereabouts. That’s all we need to know.”</p>
<p>Miguel bobs his head, swallowing compulsively before looking up at your dad. “She’s here. In the building. Her and her trainer.”</p>
<p>“What –right now?” Neena asks, leaning forward on the couch.</p>
<p>“No –at least, I don’t think so. I…” Miguel sighs hard, then runs shaking hands over his buzzed hair. “Look, you gotta promise me this isn’t going to come back at me. My mom and my dad –they got deported when all this ICE bullshit started, even though they had legal green cards… I’m all my siblings have right now.”</p>
<p>“We’ll keep you clear of it,” Wade promises. “This kid’s just on an unhinged track right now. We’re trying to stop her before she hurts herself or anyone else.”</p>
<p>Miguel nods once, twice, then continues. “I did a fucking double take when I saw her and her trainer here the first time. It was right after I’d beaten her in a match. They got on the elevator the same time I did; I nearly pissed my pants –I thought they were here to beat me up or hurt my siblings.”</p>
<p>“Did they do anything?” Piotr asks, face creased with concern.</p>
<p>“No.” Miguel shakes his head. “They pushed the button for two floors above me, didn’t say a word to me. I got off that thing as soon as I could and fucking booked it, man.”</p>
<p>“And you’re sure they’re here?” Nathan presses.</p>
<p>“I staked out the sixth floor later, to make sure I hadn’t been hallucinating,” Miguel says, pointing towards the ceiling. “I peeked out from the stairwell, saw both of them carrying groceries into six-twenty-three. Unless they’ve moved house, that’s where they’re at.”</p>
<p>“Should we head up there?” Neena asks, looking over at Nate. “Do a welfare check?”</p>
<p>“I doubt they’re there <em>right now</em>,” Miguel clarifies. “They usually come back a couple days after matches. I don’t know where they go between the fight and those couple days, but like I said, unless they’ve moved house, they’ll be there.”</p>
<p>“We’ll come back tomorrow,” Nathan decides. “Stake out the place, check the apartment if they’re not here, see if we can find any other leads. Thank you for your help, Miguel.”</p>
<p>Miguel wipes his hands on his pants before accepting your dad’s handshake. “I just want to do the right thing.”</p>
<p>“Pretty sure stopping a murder-baby puts you on the proper track,” Wade chirps as he stands and stretches. “I’m feeling snacky. Wanna have Dopinder swing by McDonalds before he drops us off?”</p>
<p>“We have food at home,” Nate says with stern fondness.</p>
<p>“And we have money in the bank. Your point?”</p>
<p>You chuckle under your breath as Nathan ushers Wade from the Herrera’s apartment, then smile to yourself when Piotr approaches Miguel, writing his number on a business card before offering it to the younger man.</p>
<p>“He’s planning something,” Neena murmurs to you as she watches the whole exchange.</p>
<p>“Yes,” you agree, watching as Miguel and your husband exchange phone numbers. “Yes, he is.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“It makes me sad.”</p>
<p>You look over from where you’re getting into your pajamas to gaze at your husband, who’s sitting on the edge of your shared bed whilst scrolling through the notes he’d taken while talking to Miguel. “What does?”</p>
<p>“We need to be helping so many more mutants. So many more people.” His mouth pulls into a tight grimace, and he lets out a heavy sigh. “But we do not have resources. We cannot <em>get</em> resources.”</p>
<p>“We’ll get it figured out, baby.” You finish pulling on your sleep shirt –which usually comes off at least halfway through the night anyway, but it’s the thought that counts—and stride over to him. You insinuate yourself between his knees, then loop your arms around his neck and press a kiss to the bridge of his nose. “If anyone can do it, it’s you. I know you’ll get things figured out.”</p>
<p>Piotr smiles, then presses a delicate kiss against the swell of your cheek. “<em>Spasibo</em>, <em>myshka</em>, for vote of confidence.”</p>
<p>“Anytime, sweetheart. Anytime.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“This is breaking and entering.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, that’s kind of the point.”</p>
<p>The five of you are back in the old apartment building, waiting –in various states of nervousness—in the hallway while Neena picks the lock on the door of apartment six-twenty-three. It’s the early afternoon, and the building is markedly silent, seeing how everyone’s at work or school.</p>
<p>Your husband shoots Wade an annoyed look. “Is <em>illegal</em>, Wade. We are breaking law.”</p>
<p>“Pretty sure not reporting Allison to the authorities is also illegal, Chrome Dome! <em>Relax</em>. We’ve got Pot‘o’Gold here; nothing bad’s gonna happen.”</p>
<p>“I’d like to point out that Juggernaut still ripped you in half when we tried to rescue Russell from the convoy,” Neena mutters. She twists the doorknob, and the door pops open. “Knock, knock.”</p>
<p>You swivel your head, looking both ways down the hall while everyone else files in, then follow closely after Piotr. “So, what are we –oh fuck.”</p>
<p>The walls in the main room are <em>covered</em> with paper. Clipping from newspapers, online articles, maps with routes marked out in red, blueprints of different buildings, tons and tons of pictures—</p>
<p>Of one Karen Page.</p>
<p>There’s some of Frank scattered in there, too, but the space is a stalker’s shrine to the intrepid reporter. There’s pictures of her arriving at and leaving work, entering and exiting her apartment building, meeting with sources, getting coffee and to-go orders from restaurants…</p>
<p>The articles and newspaper clippings are all hers to. Some of them cover Frank’s trial and Punisher escapades, while others focus on organized crime in the city.</p>
<p>A chill runs down your spine when you realize one of the blueprints has been labeled “K. Page Apartment.” “What the fuck is this?”</p>
<p>“She hasn’t given up on Karen, then,” Neena comments with a grimace. “Looks like she’s been following her for over a month, at least. Probably longer.”</p>
<p>There’s a scraping noise behind you, then a shocked, “Shit.”</p>
<p>You and Neena turn to see Wade, Nathan, and your husband standing in front of a hidden compartment tucked in the wall separating the main room from the bedroom. Stashed in the space is a massive store of guns, ammo, explosives, knives…</p>
<p>“Murder Baby got an upgrade,” Wade remarks. He reaches in, pulls out a mine the size of a dinner plate, and blanches. “Several upgrades. Where the fuck did she get all of this?”</p>
<p>“Black market, most likely. She still has family ties to organized crime, weapons trades, everything she’d need to equip herself,” Nathan reasons.</p>
<p>“Then why did she not have tools before?” Piotr asks as he sets the fake panel aside.</p>
<p>“Maybe her mentor decided to juice her up,” Wade suggests, setting the mine down in favor of toying with a machete. “Dude, this is <em>nice</em>!”</p>
<p>“What do we do with weapons?”</p>
<p>“Good question, Almost Literal Long John Silver! As it stands, Daddy’s weapon cache is in dire need of replenishing—”</p>
<p>“We’re not taking anything,” Nate interjects, gently plucking the machete out of his partner’s hand and placing it back in the compartment. “We can’t risk tipping Allison off that someone’s on to her. Our best odds are to stake this place out and intercept her when she comes back.” He takes a few pictures of the hidden closet and its contents, then motions for Piotr to put the panel back.</p>
<p>“But she could hurt someone with those,” you point out as your dad continues taking pictures of the stalker wall. “Shouldn’t we disarm her?”</p>
<p>“She’ll find more,” Nathan says as he taps at his phone’s screen. “We’ve been trying to track Allison down for weeks. We can’t afford to lose her now.”</p>
<p>Wade nestles himself next to Nate, peering over his boyfriend’s shoulder so he can see the phone screen. “Who you texting?”</p>
<p>“Castle. Someone needs to make sure Miss Page stays safe in all of this.” He pockets his phone, then takes Wade’s hand and strides towards the front door. “Let’s go.”</p>
<p>You all step into the hallway—</p>
<p>Right as Allison and a taller, much older woman with shoulder length, dark brown hair step off the elevator.</p>
<p><em>Shit</em>.</p>
<p>The older woman whips a gun out from under her jacket.</p>
<p>“Hit the deck!” Neena tackles you to the ground as the sound of gunfire echoes down the hall.</p>
<p>The first two bullets embed themselves in the drywall behind you, but the ones that follow ricochet off your husband’s steel torso with metallic <em>plinking</em> noises.</p>
<p>You scramble your feet, doing your best to get your bearings—</p>
<p>The mentor extends her hand towards you all, sending all of you flying.</p>
<p>You gasp as your husband’s steel back zips towards your face, then use a burst of air to propel yourself towards the ceiling. You cringe when the top of his head misses your nose by a hair’s breadth, then drop back down on the balls of your feet.</p>
<p>Piotr lets out a guttural shout as he crashes through the stairwell door. There’s the sound of concrete cracking, followed by a more panicked scream—</p>
<p>“Piotr!” You send a blast of air down the hall –which sends Allison and her mentor tumbling along the floor—then sprint towards the stairwell.</p>
<p>He’s hanging off a jagged concrete ledge in human form when you find him. The partial remains of the stairs lay on the flight beneath him, blocking his landing space.</p>
<p>You grab your husband’s uniform, then fly towards the ceiling so you can lug him up onto the landing.</p>
<p>Piotr stumbles, regains his balance, then immediately starts checking you over. “Are you safe? <em>Bozhe ty moi</em>, I almost crushed you—”</p>
<p>“I’m okay; it’s okay, baby, I’m alright.”</p>
<p>He hugs you against his chest, hands shaking as he strokes and smooths your hair—</p>
<p>“Hey! Get back here!”</p>
<p>The two of you bolt into the hallway at Nathan’s shout, just in time to see everyone else chasing after Allison and her trainer. You and Piotr sprint after them, catching up with the rest of your group just as Allison renders the stairwell door to a cloud of ashes.</p>
<p>You use a burst of air to propel yourself over the group and into the stairwell –then let out a shriek when you see the stairs and landings beneath you evaporating into dust. You catch yourself in the air, then block off the doorway with your body. “Stop! The ground’s gone!”</p>
<p>Nathan stops a few inches away from the edging, glaring down into the now disintegrated stairwell as he watches Allison and her trainer plummet towards the ground for.</p>
<p>Allison’s trainer lands easily, catching Allison without missing a beat before setting her down and ushering her out the door.</p>
<p>Wade whistles, having shoved his face between your side and the doorframe to watch as well. “Damn. Twenty bucks on super strength. Anyone else want to get in?”</p>
<p>“Fifty on telekinesis,” Neena pipes up.</p>
<p>“What now?” you ask as Piotr helps you get back on the –solid—floor.</p>
<p>“We unfuck this mess,” Nathan growls as he stalks back down the hall, towards the elevator.</p>
<p>“Pass,” Wade declares, following after his partner nonetheless. “I much prefer fucking things.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The five of you wind up dividing into teams –Wade and Piotr stay behind to stake out the building, Neena leaves to go collect extra weapons and tactical gear, and you and Nate head out to stake out The Bulletin office building where Karen works, just in case.</p>
<p>You and your dad set up shop on top of the building opposite Karen’s workplace, equipped with your electronic binoculars and a sniper scope.</p>
<p>“I’ve got her,” Nathan says as he peers through scope. “In her office, talking to a coworker. Looks like she’s fine.”</p>
<p>“And I… I think I’ve got Frank,” you say, adjusting your binoculars as you watch a matte black van park half a block away from Karen’s office. “Yeah, that’s definitely the murder van. It’s either him or some fucking mobsters.”</p>
<p>Nathan frowns at you when you fish your phone out of your pants pocket. “What are you doing?”</p>
<p>“Calling Frank to make sure it’s him.”</p>
<p>“Since when do you have Castle’s number?”</p>
<p>“Since the whole thing with Christina and Essex. He said that if something like that happened again, it’d be better if I wasn’t randomly hanging around Nelson, Murdock, and Page on the off chance he might show up.” You pull up Frank’s contact –filed under his fake identity, just in case—and dial him. “You’re parked outside Karen’s office, half a block away, right? Black murder van, matte black, probable bloodstains on it that no one can see.”</p>
<p>Frank lets out a sharp breath. “Where the fuck are you?”</p>
<p>“Rooftop of the building opposite The Bulletin. Dad and I are staking it out, just in case. I know he texted you about Allison. We ran into her and her trainer when we were leaving from checking out her apartment, and they ducked on us.”</p>
<p>Frank lets out a blue streak that makes the sky look yellow by comparison. “You’re shitting me –where’s your dad? Is he with you right now?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. He wants to talk to you.” You hand your phone off to Nathan, then go back to watching things through your binoculars. <em>Pigeon. Pigeon. Stray cat. Smoker. Guy wearing a rainbow suit. More pigeons—</em></p>
<p>And then an explosion shakes the whole block.</p>
<p>Smoke billows out of The Bulletin’s doors and windows, gray and thick. Screams pierce the air as people dart away from the building. Sirens echo in the distance, along with the sounds of screeching brakes and horns honking. Broken glass glitters on the sidewalk before being dashed under the feet of panicked passersby.</p>
<p>The murder van lurches, and then Frank practically bursts through the driver’s side door and bolts towards the smoking building.</p>
<p>“Get up. We need to help. I already called Wade.”</p>
<p>You nearly put down your binoculars at your dad’s urging –and almost miss it.</p>
<p>There’s someone else walking towards the building. Not running. <em>Walking</em>. Calmly, and completely out of place in the wake of shrieking and coughing pedestrians. There’s a black, featureless backpack slung over their shoulder, and they’re at least a head shorter than everyone else around them—</p>
<p>“Dad –that’s her! That’s Allison!” You shove your binoculars into his hands, pointing frantically at the street below. “She’s already here!”</p>
<p>Nathan swears when he locks eyes on Allison’s tiny, casually walking form. “Fucking –get down there. Cut her off.”</p>
<p>You jump off the side of the building, hovering briefly as you try to find a landing spot amidst the chaos and carnage. You dive lower, intent on nabbing Allison before she can do anything—</p>
<p>And then you watch her crouch down against the sidewalk, next to a car and out of the flow of foot traffic. She takes the backpack off her shoulder, reaches in, and produces the pieces of a rifle from the bag’s depths.</p>
<p>You freeze. You can’t process what you’re seeing. A wave of dread and nausea wash over you as you watch this tiny, not fully grown human assemble the rifle with more ease than a teenager should ever have with a gun. Your breath catches in your throat as Allison struggles to get a clip into the stock—</p>
<p>And then you see Frank come back out of The Bulletin building with Karen in tow.</p>
<p>You don’t have time to stop Allison or grab Karen and Frank and get them out of the way, so you do the next best thing.</p>
<p>You project your voice as loud as you can and shout the word, “Gun!”</p>
<p>A few windows break, but it gets the job done.</p>
<p>Frank whips his head around, then yanks Karen back into the entry alcove just as Allison gets the clip in and takes aim at them.</p>
<p>A new chorus of screams echo into the air as Allison lets out a round of gunfire that sprays wildly along the facades of buildings and sides of cars. She stumbles, arms jerking as she tries to keep control of the firearm.</p>
<p>You dip away briefly to avoid any wayward bullets, then drop down onto the sidewalk, positioning yourself between Allison and Frank and Karen. You hold your hand up, reaching out to her in a calming gesture. “Allison, put the gun down. This isn’t the way to handle this.”</p>
<p>“The fuck would you know!” Allison shrieks, waving the gun wildly. “He killed my parents, I’m killing him. Stay the fuck out of it!”</p>
<p>“Allison, please—”</p>
<p>There’s the sound of metal scraping against concrete, and then your dad drops down on the other side of the street. He readies his “future gun,” as dubbed by Wade, then sprints over towards you and Allison. He jumps over the hood of a car, then stops on the side of the street, stepping between two parked trucks. “It’s over, Allison. You’re outnumbered, and we’ve got back up on the way. Put the gun down, and let’s talk about this.”</p>
<p>“Go fuck yourself!” Allison snaps, before cocking the rifle and taking aim in your direction.</p>
<p>Frank barrels out from the alcove, keeping Karen tucked behind him. He shoves her towards a gap between two cars, then practically tackles you out of the line of fire and into the same gap.</p>
<p>You gasp when you hit the pavement, gritting your teeth as dull pain flares in your shoulder. “That’s gonna be arthritis someday.” You shove your hair out of your face, then nod at Karen. “Hey. How’s it going?”</p>
<p>“I’ve been better,” Karen grunts. She’s covered in dust and bleeding from a cut on her forehead, but she’s fine otherwise. She paws through her purse, pulling out a .380 and chambering a round before carefully aiming the gun at the pavement. “What now?”</p>
<p>“You two get out of here; get somewhere safe,” you say as the three of you crawl towards the street while Nathan lays down cover fire for you. “We’ll handle Allison, then—”</p>
<p>Before you can say anything else, all the cars within sixty feet of you evaporate into ash.</p>
<p>You look over at Allison, who has her hand extended towards the street. Her eyes glow blue, and her expression is one of grim satisfaction.</p>
<p>You swallow hard. “Shit.”</p>
<p>Everything happens at once. Nathan throws up a telekinetic shield just as Allison opens fire again. A cab skids sideways into a stop at the end of the block, blocking off the rest of potential traffic. Wade dives out of the passenger side, letting out a battle cry before he gets tagged in the hip by Allison and crumples to the ground with an irate “Dammit!” Sirens wail, growing steadily closer.</p>
<p>“We need to get out of here,” Karen gasps, scrambling backwards while Nathan takes care of Wade and Neena rushes Allison.</p>
<p>You cast a glance to your husband –who’s armored up and taking the brunt of Allison’s gunfire so Neena can do her thing—before nodding to Karen. “Go. We’ll take care of things.”</p>
<p>Before her and Frank can make a run for it, a lone figure clad in black and a mask that covers their whole head sprints up the street towards the fracas.</p>
<p>And then a car lifts off the side of the street and sails towards the three of you.</p>
<p>You use an air current to make a shield, gritting your teeth as the car bounces off and crashes against the ground.</p>
<p>Frank growls out a blue streak behind you. “Who the fuck is that?”</p>
<p>“Long story.” You deflect a few more cars, whipping your head back and forth as you try to process Allison’s powers and angry shrieking –she’s opted off the gun, which is good, except she’s better with her powers than a rifle, which is not—and the steadily encroaching cop cars and the sudden assault from this new assailant (who you’re guessing is Allison’s trainer, but now really isn’t the time for hypotheses).</p>
<p>There’s too much going on right now. You all need to get out of here.</p>
<p>“Dad!” You try to shove the mystery fighter back with a blast of air –which works until they stop themselves with a telekinetic shield—then grab onto Karen and Frank and start running towards the rest of the group. “<em>Dad</em>!”</p>
<p>Nate looks up from deflecting one of Allison’s bolts of energy, takes in the most-likely-Allison’s-trainer and the cop cars blockading the other end of the block, then swears. “We need to get the hell out of here! Get them—” he gestures to Frank and Karen “—out of here!”</p>
<p>“Come on!” You direct Frank and Karen towards the nearest alleyway, hoping to at least get them out of sight before the cops can see anything—</p>
<p>A gunshot, aimed between you and the alley, goes off. The bullet embeds itself in the wall of the building just in front of you.</p>
<p>The masked attacker charges towards the three of you, pistol in hand and pointed in your direction.</p>
<p>Karen quickly aims and fires in the direction of the attacker.</p>
<p>The bullets bounce harmlessly off their telekinetic shield, but the force from the impact knocks them onto the ground.</p>
<p>You push the assailant away with a blast of wind, bouncing them across the pavement and into the side of a car. “Alright, let’s—”</p>
<p>“N.Y.P.D.! Put your hands in the air!”</p>
<p>Your head whips back and forth, looking between the police –who are huddled behind their cars, guns trained on all of you—and everyone else. You can see Allison freeze, staring down the cops in shock and fear, and then watch as her eyes start to glow blue. <em>Shit. We can’t afford to lose her again.</em></p>
<p>So, you do what seems most natural, in the moment. You dash over, grab Allison around her waist, and float up into the air so she can’t teleport away.</p>
<p>Except everything goes wrong.</p>
<p>You hear the gunshot. You hear one of the cop’s guns go off, and you can hear Piotr scream, and you can feel Allison jerk in your arms, but you can’t really process what’s going on. All you know is that you’re dropping towards the ground, and you can’t figure out why. It’s not like you decided to stop floating.</p>
<p>It isn’t until Frank rolls you onto your back and presses his hand against your side that you realize you were shot. Pain bursts in your ribs, radiating across your torso, and it’s all you can do to breathe.</p>
<p>“Hey, hey, stay with me,” Frank gravels out, shucking out of his jacket and pressing it against your ribcage. “Count down backwards from one hundred.”</p>
<p>“Fuck you,” you wheeze.</p>
<p>Then Piotr’s on his knees next to you, voice panicked and hands shaking. He delicately brushes your hair out of your face –he’s not armored down, which is probably for the best, all things considered—and says something to you, but you can’t really make out the individual words he’s saying.</p>
<p>You’re looking past your husband, a few feet away, where Allison’s lifeless body lays on the street. There’s a hole in her chest that’s blooming blood, and the masked fighter kneels over her, feeling at her neck for a moment before closing her eyes.</p>
<p>Another one down. Another voice lost in society’s endless war against mutantkind.</p>
<p>A sob catches in your throat, equal parts pain and grief.</p>
<p>Piotr’s voice breaks through the cacophony of screams and sirens. “<em>Myshka</em>. <em>Myshka</em>, can you—”</p>
<p>And then the impossible happens.</p>
<p>(Though, anymore, you suppose it’s just improbable, given everything you’ve seen.)</p>
<p>Allison’s eyes snap open, glowing blue so intensely that they’re almost white. She screams, back bowing off the ground. Her body jerks onto its side, and she claws at the ground while she shrieks and rages.</p>
<p>A vortex of blue energy opens underneath her, breaking away at the asphalt and sucking it down into its depth. The ground shakes, and the sky blackens above the city as a beam of energy erupts from the portal, sailing up into the sky and disappearing from view.</p>
<p>And then the beam disappears, and Allison and the mystery fighter with it.</p>
<p>It’s an understood truth that New York city is never truly silent –but in that moment, it’s a near thing.</p>
<p>And then you hear Nathan’s voice say, “Bodyslide by seven.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The bullet –which passed through Allison first—bounced off one of your ribs. Fractured the bone, but didn’t hit any of your vital organs.</p>
<p>The healers at the Institute mend the fracture, but you’ll still have a bruise, limited mobility for a bit, pain, and some light physical therapy to do before it’s all sudden done.</p>
<p>You’re lucky.</p>
<p>“What kind of cop shoots a kid?” you grumble, wincing as you prop yourself up in one of the medical ward’s hospital beds.</p>
<p>“Happens all too often,” Piotr says quietly, hoarsely. His hand is wrapped around yours, fingers absently spinning your wedding band around your ring finger. He hasn’t left your side since you hit the pavement and Nathan got all of you out of there.</p>
<p>
  <em>So much could have gone wrong… or worse…</em>
</p>
<p>You squeeze his hand gently, focusing on how solid and warm it feels against yours to keep from spiraling. “You okay?”</p>
<p>“I am now that you are,” he says after drawing in and letting out a shaky breath. Your husband’s eyes are rimmed with red, and his cheeks and nose are flushed.</p>
<p>“I’ll have to stay on bed and-slash-or couch rest for a few days.” You offer him a tired smile. “Maybe we can finally decide what color to paint the living room.”</p>
<p>Piotr smiles back, though the stress he’d gone through is still evident on his face. “That would be nice.”</p>
<p>You squeeze his hand again, then let your eyes slide shut as he presses his forehead against yours—</p>
<p>And apparently that’s all the calm the universe is going to allow you right now.</p>
<p>There’s a knock on the door, and you open your eyes to see Ellie standing in the doorway, looking uncharacteristically pensive.</p>
<p>“Castle and Wilson are trying to kill each other.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Your dad had scooped up everyone when he’d teleported back to the mansion. You suspected that, aside from it being a favor to Karen and Frank, there’d been a precautionary element in making sure that the officers couldn’t ask the two of them about how the X-Men were involved in the whole situation or about the whereabouts of Deadpool and Cable.</p>
<p>(You’re confident that neither Karen or Frank would sell any of you out, but the New York police department is famous for “extrapolating” conclusions off any scrap of knowledge that confirms their hunches.)</p>
<p>You hear them before you see them. The two men are shouting each other, voices bouncing off the walls and high ceiling that comprise the mansion’s entryway.</p>
<p>Frank’s hands are clenched at his sides, shaking slightly as he growls and curses at your brother. His eyes are wild, almost unhinged. He’s ignoring Karen’s pleas to calm down and “take a breath,” but he’s still conscious of her proximity to him, never once stepping on her foot or so much as bumping her with an elbow as he gesticulates at Wade.</p>
<p>You brother, on the other hand, is none so controlled. He’s pacing all over the place –still in his Deadpool suit—flailing wildly and occasionally tripping and stumbling over himself. Occasionally, he’ll get almost nose to nose with Frank, only to go back to storming around, as though he can’t contain the maelstrom of energy inside him.</p>
<p>“Look, if the kid wants a piece of me, then let her do what she needs to do!” Frank snaps, scowling. “There’s no need for all of you to get involved in this shit.”</p>
<p>“And what if she kills you?” Neena pipes up from where she’s leaning against the staircase banister, watching the chaos unfold.</p>
<p>“Then she kills me.”</p>
<p>“That’s not an option,” Karen states, voice steely.</p>
<p>“Is that what you’d want for your kids?” Wade’s back in Frank’s face now, the eyes on his suit widening and narrowing with the rise and falls of his ire. “You’d want that for your daughter, for her to go out killing everyone that ever hurt you—”</p>
<p>Frank’s control splinters. He bares his teeth in a snarl, then slugs Wade across the jaw before grabbing him by the collar of his suit.</p>
<p>“Hey, hey! <em>Hey</em>!” Nate shouts, lurching up from the chair he was sitting in as Wade and Frank start taking shots at each other. “Enough!”</p>
<p>Karen yanks on Frank’s arm, doing her best to disentangle him from Wade. “Frank –stop!”</p>
<p>You take a step forward, set on getting between the two men and separating them—</p>
<p>Except your husband brushes past you, squeezing your shoulder gently as he does. He grabs Wade with one hand, Frank with the other, then wrenches them apart with raw strength and sets them down on opposite sides of his massive form. “Enough!” he orders, voice raised to be heard over the last dregs of the fight. “You do this elsewhere. Not where children are present.”</p>
<p>Frank acquiesces with a tight nod, gaze bouncing around the room as he shifts from foot to foot.</p>
<p>Wade starts to argue –but Piotr silences him with the raise of an eyebrow that’s so stern, so severe, that it calls you directly back to his mother and makes you do a double take.</p>
<p>“We are not permitting child to kill anyone,” Piotr continues (ignoring Wade’s mumblings about “he really <em>is</em> a dom switch in this series.”). “Allison deserves chance to do better. All we have to do is show her that chance.”</p>
<p>“Not that simple,” Frank spits out. “Not when she’s going after the people <em>I</em> care about. Not when she’s using guns and bombs and whatever the hell making the cars disappear was –do we even have a profile on this kid, Summers? What other damn powers am I going to have to anticipate if this girl’s hunting me down.”</p>
<p>“I believe, in that regard,” Professor Xavier interjects as he wheels towards the lot of you, “I might be able to shed some light on the situation.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“There’s multiple theories on how mutants came to be. Some scientists think that anomalies in the evolutionary chain of various animals and other species spurned the development of modern mutants. A group of geneticists based in Korea is working on a study that’s based on the premise that the mutant gene developed out of other, milder mutations more commonly present in humans –asthma, heterochromia, and the like.”</p>
<p>“Which is it?” Neena asks, staring at the projector screen in one of the classrooms as the Professor taps away at a laptop.</p>
<p>“Both –and more. There’s several classifications of mutants today, and only select groups apply to specific theories. It’d be fascinating to dive into at a later time, but for now, we’re focused on Miss Ricci –who as fortune would have it, is part of the Hellenistic mutant lineage.”</p>
<p>“Uh-huh,” Wade says, nodding animatedly. “And in normal speak that means…”</p>
<p>“To put it simply, she’s a descendent of the ancient Greek gods –or, rather, the figures that inspired the stories of the deities,” Xavier explains. “Whether they actually existed as divine beings remains to be seen, but their powers, their followers, and their impact on the world are all quite real.”</p>
<p>“How can you be sure?” Neena asks.</p>
<p>“Certain mutation sets that appear more often than others can be traced back to mutant ancestors who bore the same traits.” The Professor taps at the keyboard, making an image of a genealogy key appear. “Death-based magical abilities –like the ones displayed by Miss Ricci—in mutants have been consistently traced back to the mutant that was worshipped as Hecate, Greek goddess of sorcery. Interestingly enough, the same trait is strongly present in the Rasputin lineage, along with several other Russian families.”</p>
<p>“Because we need so much help in that area,” Piotr mutters next to you.</p>
<p>“So what does all this mean with her going after my people?” Frank says, voice measured in such a way that you can tell he’s barely keeping a handle on his agitation. “What can we expect?”</p>
<p>“Well, unless she gets someone that can tutor her magical abilities, not much beyond what we’ve seen,” Xavier decides. “The ability to teleport and create offensive attacks are often innate to mutants like Allison, almost like the gene’s form of giving the person a defense mechanism. She might be able to tap into a few other base level abilities –such as rendering things to ash—but without proper training, her abilities will plateau soon.”</p>
<p>“But she is getting stronger,” Karen speaks up. “Just how strong is she supposed to get?”</p>
<p>“That would depend on the overall presence of the mutant gene in her DNA –which is not information I am privy to.”</p>
<p>“She’s able to self-revive,” Nathan says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can you make an estimate off that?”</p>
<p>“How recent has this ability presented?”</p>
<p>“One other time.”</p>
<p>Frank frowns. “She’s done it twice? When else has she died? I thought she was laying low after she kidnapped Karen.”</p>
<p>Nate grimaces, but says nothing.</p>
<p>Frank’s face pales after a moment, jaw working convulsively. His trigger finger twitches against his thigh.</p>
<p>Karen interlocks her fingers through Frank’s, expression grim but determined. “What do we do?”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Karen and Frank –at Nathan’s urging—decide to get out of the city for a bit. Allison will likely be down for a bit –regeneration or not, it takes a lot to recover from a bullet wound, let alone death—and disrupting their routine will make it harder for the vengeance obsessed girl to keep tabs on them.</p>
<p>There’s also talk of the two borrowing one of Nathan’s safehouses while they find new apartments. You only get to hear the starts of the conversation before Piotr ushers you out and back to your home.</p>
<p>“You are on prescribed rest,” he says when you protest. “Doctor’s orders. Best to not delay.”</p>
<p>You wind up on the couch, cushioned by an army of pillows, with a blanket over your lap, ice packs against your ribs, snacks and drinks on the coffee table in front of you, your phone hooked up to the charger on the power strip next to the couch, a movie playing on the TV, and Piotr sitting in the chair next to the couch, holding your hand.</p>
<p>(He hadn’t wanted to sit with you for fear of jostling you.)</p>
<p>“There’s going to be a press shitshow over all this,” you comment, partially distracted by the movie.</p>
<p>“I know,” Piotr replies, thumb rubbing against your knuckles.</p>
<p>“You should’ve stayed home,” you murmur. “I’m not a recognizable X-Man. The Institute’s name shouldn’t have been attached to something like this.”</p>
<p>“What should or should have not happened is moot,” Piotr says gently. “What is more important is your are my wife, <em>moya myshka</em>. It is not right for me to leave you to handle things I find… unsavory.”</p>
<p>“It’s okay to find things unsavory, sweetheart.”</p>
<p>“<em>Da</em>. But leaving you in dangerous situation because am not lover of violence is not. Leaving you to handle challenging mission because I do not agree with vigilantes is not. You are my wife. You come first.”</p>
<p>You look over at him, taking in his contemplative expression. “What changed all this? Not that I’m opposed –you can do what you want—but what made you decide to get on board?”</p>
<p>He sighs, grimacing sheepishly. “My father and I… had conversation. When you left with others to find Madeline and Mr. Essex. He thought I was being… most un-husbandly to let you handle ‘rough stuff,’ as he put it. He said that X-Man title was no excuse, that my duties to protect and support you surpassed that.” He gazes down at your wedding and engagement ring. “He was –<em>is</em>—right.”</p>
<p>You aren’t sure how to respond to that –so you don’t. Not directly, at least.</p>
<p>You tug on your husband’s hand until he leans over, then press a kiss against his cheek. “I love you, Piotr Rasputin."</p>
<p>He smiles, then kisses your cheek in return. “And I love you, Y/N Rasputin.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT TIME!!!! DO NOT SKIP OVER THIS!!!</p>
<p>I am going back on hiatus again. I'm officially through the first stockpile of fics I made; in order to keep up with posting once a week, I'd have to write through the week, and I can't do that because I need to work on my original novels and e-reader stuff to try and make some money at some point.</p>
<p>I should be back in about two months --and, in the meantime, I'll still be posting art (of Piotr and of other stuff), tidbits about my original writing, and updates on various fics for the series over on my Tumblr (www.master-sass-blast.tumblr.com)!!! Don't worry, this series is absolutely not going anywhere or being abandoned; I just need to shift my priorities for a bit.</p>
<p>Stay hydrated, take your meds, eat breakfast, and have fun!</p>
<p>Back in a bit,</p>
<p>-The Author </p>
<p>&lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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